James picked up the thread, his Irish lilt giving it a rough, pleasant texture. “If you stay here, Jessica, I feel it will announce to the Pack, in no uncertain terms, that you’ve already become a full-blooded wolf. I think it’s an unnecessary risk to take. The wolves here are agitated already. They know they heard something last night. They’re just unsure what it was. If we can possibly keep your shift a secret, and give you a shot of going back to a normal life, we should do that.”
“There’s one more thing in favor of you heading back home,” my father added. “Anyone in the supernatural community who had an idle suspicion that Jessica McClain was really Molly Hannon will be on high alert. They will be looking for you to be missing. If Molly disappears, right as rumors of Jessica McClain turning into a wolf surface, you might never be able to go back to that life, and preserving your alias is a high priority. It would be extremely hard to give you another identity at this point. Supes are tricky, and many are familiar with you from your chosen line of work.” He held his tongue, but I knew what he wanted to say—that I’d been reckless and made poor choices regarding my career path, and as it sat right now he’d be right. It’d been a tough battle to convince him to let me involve myself in the supe community in the first place, but after I ended my short stint as a police officer, I had only a few options left open that made any sense. In the end, and likely against his good judgment, he’d allowed Nick and me to open Hannon & Michaels Investigations, with the understanding that I would act solely as Nick’s Essential, his human companion, and we would take only low-risk cases. It’d worked, and now I was on the brink of losing my hard-fought-for life. It scared me. “Letting you go back to your life until we see how this unfolds may be the safest place for you. But I don’t like it,” he growled. “Keeping you here under lock and key is what my gut is telling me to do.”
“If news of my shift leaked today, how many wolves do you think would actually be a serious threat to me right out of the gates?” I asked.
My father studied me closely. “Out of the hundred and fifty-nine wolves under my immediate directive, not including outlying Canadian or Alaskan wolves, I believe there are only a few—ten to twelve at most—who still hold tightly to the belief that you will bring about the ruination of the Pack if you become full blooded. The majority are undecided, but could be swayed quickly if the loudest of the opposition gained momentum before we were able to shut it down. I don’t want to worry you any more than necessary, but this morning the Cain Myth resurfaced on several U.S. Pack sites. It could be a coincidence, it does come up once in a while, but it’s likely tied to the unease. We haven’t figured out where it was generated from this time, but we’re working on it.”
“Already?” I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. “That can’t be good.”
“In this instant age of technology,” my father shook his head, “I have no way to stop it. It infuriates the hell out of me, but it proves beyond a doubt there’s already speculation and unrest within our own ranks, and getting you back to your old life and out of danger is an absolute priority. If we can stop the momentum and keep your shift under wraps, we have a chance to calm the uprising; if not, we may possibly have a civil war on our hands. It’s my job as Pack leader to keep that from happening at all costs.”
The goddamn Cain Myth.
A few nonsensical verses typed on a plain sheet of paper had shaped my entire existence. The Myth had been mailed to the Compound with no postmark exactly one month after my birth. Whether it carried an ounce of truth had never mattered. It had achieved its goal from the start—to seed unrest inside the Pack, while ruining my life in the process. I knew the lines by heart. They were etched in my mind permanently, like a bad stain:
As a Female in Wolf Skin rises, the unborn Daughter of Cain is born;
In her the beast shall lie, well hidden in True Form;
And from this day forth, the Wolves of the Night shall pay;
Blood and flesh of their bones, her mighty hand shall slay;
The end of the race will be close at hand;
When the Daughter of Evil rules the land.
Did I believe I was the daughter of Cain? Of course not. But fear was a powerful motivator, especially for the extremely superstitious wolves. When the Cain Myth arrived, I’d been told it sent the wolves into a frenzy, many calling for my father to end my life. It’d taken a few years to quell that unrest, but the Myth had lingered, rearing its ugly head throughout my childhood, causing never-ending trouble for me. Things had finally leveled off, but only because I hadn’t shifted into a wolf at puberty, and ultimately I’d fought my way off the Compound. Out of sight, out of mind.
Now I was back.